


Dawn of a New Day

by Daphne919



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts First Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphne919/pseuds/Daphne919
Summary: Harry had hoped that death was going to be peaceful. Opening his eyes to a new type of pain and suffering was not what he thought was going to happen when he walked into the forest. He had traded one hell for another. Or so he thought.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	Dawn of a New Day

**Author's Note:**

> Horizontal lines show a shift in point of view or time.  
> I picture Harry to look kind of like Finn Wolfhard. https://tvseans.az/uploads/persons/thumbs/gTSmyD.jpg

“Avada Kedavra!”  
The words wrung in his ears long after they were no longer in the air. He felt suspended in time and space, the moment after the curse hit him seemed to last forever.  
And then he was falling, and everything faded as he hit the ground.  
Time seemed to have lost all meaning. Muffled sounds and light seemed to reach him through a long tunnel. He drifted forever in a motionless sea, reliving the horrors he had seen during his short life. Wasn’t death supposed to be peaceful? Where were his mum and dad? Was he doomed to wallow in his own miseries forever?  
He hoped not.  
__________________________________________________________________________________  
He became aware of a steady beeping and soft voices but was unable to make out what they were saying. He seemed to be laying on a bed, but any other sensory input was overshadowed by the images playing in front of his eyes.  
Pictures of a life different than his own were rolling like a horror story in his mind. Images of a childhood, way worse than anything the Dursleys had ever done. Worse than the cupboard under the stairs. Worse than going several days without food and being fed through a cat flap. Worse than being chased by Dudley and his gang or getting sunburned in the garden pruning Aunt Petunia’s rose bushes.  
What was happening? Why was he seeing this? Was this his life?  
The beeping near him grew more frequent, the voices grew closer, there was a pinch to his arm and suddenly he couldn’t bring himself to care any more about the weird memories of a little boy he didn’t know.  
He drifted once more.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
He wasn’t dead. This was the conclusion he had finally come to. His life as Harry Potter had ended, but he had been thrust into the body of another. He had memories that were not his. They surfaced in his mind at night and he was left screaming himself horse as they played in his mind. The voices always soothed him, or they attempted to, but in the end, they usually ended up drugging him and he was pulled under the surface of the water once more.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
In a castle all the way in Scotland, an old professor supervised the creation of this year’s letters to first years. Separating ones to muggleborns so they could be hand delivered. Her hand paused over a name which had caught her eye.

Mr. H Snape  
The Last Room on Level 6  
Bristol Royal Hospital for Children  
Bristol

________________________________________________________________________

He was finally awake. He had stopped drifting several days ago and had awoken to bright lights and a sterile hospital room. He was no longer hooked up to a variety of machines, a feeding tube and IV the only things still. The maddening beeping had stopped, and he was finally left in silence.  
He was currently sitting by a large window, gazing out at the small courtyard several floors below. Every so often a nurse would come in and say something in a soft voice. Sometimes they’d bring food, other times they tried to encourage him to move around, but Harry never shifted his gaze away from the window.  
Days passed in this manner.  
___________________________________________________________________________  
Shock. That was the predominant emotion that Severus Snape felt. His eyes were locked onto the envelope that McGonagall had thrust at him. He stared at the name on the thick parchment and his hands started to shake. How was this possible? He had no living relatives. Snape was not a magical surname. Who was this child? Was it a mere coincidence?  
His eyes traveled up to look at the Deputy Headmistress. She wore an expression that was probably a mirror to the one he wore on his own face. He looked back down at the letter. He hoped that this turned out to be nothing, but in his gut he knew it wouldn’t.  
_______________________________________________________________________________  
They walked down a long white hallway in the children’s hospital in Bristol. He had chosen Minerva to accompany him. A hospital employee walked just in front of them, wringing her hands and speaking in a hushed, but quick voice. Her words barely registered in his mind, so lost was he in his own thoughts.  
“The lad has been here for a few weeks. He is scheduled to be moved to a long-term care ward tomorrow. We did not expect anyone to come enquiring about him…” The question was obvious in her voice, but Severus ignored it, letting Minerva prattle on with a lame excuse.  
They finally came to the very end of the hall and stepped into a small room. His eyes immediately went to the bed, but it was empty. A tray of food sat uneaten on a bed side table. He flicked his gaze up and his breathe caught in his throat.  
No. This wasn’t going to be a mere coincidence.  
_______________________________________________________________________________  
Harry heard the soft footfalls of several people entering the room. He was sat in his usual spot by the window. He did not turn to greet the people intruding on his silence. Call him rude, he did not care. He heard the nurse explaining to the intruders about what had landed him there. She gave a very glossed over version. Her explanation of events did not even come close to touching the horror that this body had gone through.  
After several moments of silence, he realized that she had stopped talking at some point. They had probably asked him something, but he had no intention of answering any of their questions. They knew this. He had ignored every attempt to engage him by hospital staff.  
Suddenly a dark shadow entered his peripheral vision and he tensed.  
_______________________________________________________________________________  
Severus gaze was fixed on the small boy sitting next to a large window. He had wavy black hair that just brushed the top of his ears, and he wore a simple pair of striped pajamas. He did not turn to greet them, nor did he acknowledge that he had heard them. Unease stirred in his gut.  
“The boy was brought in after a fire at one of the local orphanages,” her voice sounded loud in the quiet room. “He was not in great shape and had to be kept in a medically induced coma for two weeks. He woke about a week and a half ago but has been unresponsive to staff ever since.”  
Severus let her words wash over him once more as he took a cautious step towards the boy. Behind him, the nurse and Minerva continued to quietly talk. He knew she would relay to him anything important that he missed, but right now he needed a closer look at the child. Several more steps brought him right alongside the little boy, and he let himself peer out to see what the child was looking at. In the courtyard below, several small children ran around with their families. His gaze flickered up to look at the child’s expressionless face.  
No, definitely not a coincidence for the child to have his surname.  
The child in front of him had many of the Prince characteristics that he himself had not been fortunate enough to inherit. High cheekbones and strong eyebrows graced the young face. Dull green eyes stared emptily out the window. The boy had tensed his shoulders when Severus had stepped close, and they were still tense now, but the child still did not acknowledge him.  
Severus let his eyes wander of the boy’s form. The boy was small. Smaller than any other eleven-year-old he had ever seen. He was a small waif of a child. Skinny hands gripped the sides of the chair he was sitting in and two tiny socked feet came nowhere close to touching the floor. He was a skeleton. A feeding tube could be seen going through his nose, the uneaten food flickered through his mind. The child was not eating and looked like he’d had very few meals in his life to begin with.  
What had happened to this boy?  
__________________________________________________________________________________________  
Severus Snape had never wanted to be a father. He had never considered the possibility. But suddenly being a father was a reality. The tiny boy in the hospital was without a doubt his. How, he did not know. His mind went over every relationship he had 11 years ago. There had been a few women he had seen at that time, but none of the relationships had progressed far and none were ever meaningful.  
They had forged paperwork to have the child transferred into their custody. Minerva had summoned Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts and she was being briefed on the boy’s medical condition. Throughout all of this, Severus remained in his spot next to the child, Minerva’s hand on his shoulder.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________  
Harry become aware that something was different. More people were coming and going and the dark shadow next to him had not moved away. He turned his head slightly and for the first time removed his eyes from the window.  
Severus Snape was standing before him. Alive.  
Harry had known that he had at least been reincarnated, or maybe cast into the body of a boy who lived in another time or universe. But he had not expected to see the ghosts of his past before him so soon after his arrival.  
He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed being transferred into a wheelchair. He was being pushed down the long white hallway. He had never exited his room. He watched, vacantly, as they passed rooms, some occupied, others not.  
Part of him knew he should be paying more attention to what was going on around him, but he was so numb. He vaguely registered the sun on his face before a vial was pressed against his lips and he obediently drank the sleeping draught.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how long I'll continue this. Just a plot I had stuck in my head. Let me know if you want me to continue it.


End file.
